


The Dreamweaver

by akgerhardt



Series: SFW [4]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Adventure, Dreamsharing, Fantasy, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-10-17 06:38:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17555264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akgerhardt/pseuds/akgerhardt
Summary: the lunesta commercial, but gay





	The Dreamweaver

There is a certain kind of innate magic within the soul of every being. Most often, it goes unrecognized, and it lies dormant from birth to death. If the individual is lucky enough, they will activate it and encounter The Trials, which offer the chance to create a dreamweaver, an entity separate from but bound to the psyche. It is a very precarious process, and the direction and form it takes are as unique as the beings themselves.

Dirk Strider never dreamed. It wasn't a tragedy, just a fact. He wasn't made for imaginative explorations of the subconscious, and he hated sleeping, anyway. Well, it was more like he couldn't sleep, but he was in denial. He had to be in control of such a simple biological function. He insisted to anyone concerned that it wasn’t insomnia- he just didn’t need as much sleep as the average person, and he preferred to use that time to optimize daily productivity. He counted himself lucky not to have dreams, considering how many nights he spent trying to console his adopted brother when he was plagued by posttraumatic terrors. He made a full recovery over time, but still. Shit’s inarguably terrifying. He'd rather forego the nightlong hallucinations that everyone else seems to have.

Unbeknownst to him, he passed his trials. The first was as a child, on a sunny spring day. The classroom windows were cracked, and a lone bee accidentally flew in. Most of the students panicked, but the more “macho” ones attempted to demonstrate their toughness. The teacher took off her heeled shoe, waiting for an opportunity to strike while trying to calm them down. It landed on Dirk briefly, but he wasn’t about to freak out, because that wouldn’t look cool. He’s yelled at to kill it, and he stays perfectly still, not sure what to do. It flies off again, getting slapped by a book and falling onto the floor. The teacher and several students close in, and then he’s wrestling them back, scooping it up in his cupped hands and rushing it out to freedom. He doesn’t get stung, and he feels pretty proud of himself as he watches it fly away, but then he has to deal with the human consequences of his actions.

The second trial is initiated by himself unwittingly. He calls it an ironic prank, but really, he’s just smuggling all of the still-live frogs out of the science lab and setting them loose in a pond on private property (since they were caught at the one on school grounds). He gets a misdemeanor and detention, and the rest of his grade has to share computers to do a virtual dissection.

The third is on a misty night, walking home from an evening class. It’s a box of kittens, the most cliche scenario, except the box was already claimed by a group of drunk college kids with bad intentions. He knows how to fight, but he still gets his ass handed to him. Luckily, he manages to last long enough for someone to intervene. He takes the kittens home, because like hell is he giving them to a kill shelter. He’s allergic to cats, so Roxy takes them off his hands the next day. Her moms are rich as fuck, so it's no problem for her to grab a last minute plane ticket. They dick around for a couple hours, and then she returns, new children in tow.

He wouldn't call himself an animal lover; he’s never even had pets. You won't find him fawning over a puppy. He doesn’t eat meat, but just because it's nasty. He’s not a warm and fuzzy person; he doesn’t have a soft side. Stone cold motherfucker, all the way.

Yeah, he's the embodiment of badass. Once these stitches come out, he'll have sick scars. He can tend to his injuries without even flinching. Still, it's been a hell of an ordeal; broken bottles are no match for a bookbag. At least Texas passed the open-carry sword law. He should start taking advantage of that.

He shuts off his lamp and climbs into bed carefully, then starts working on his tablet. These credits aren't gonna earn themselves.

By mid-morning, his head hurts. He shuts his eyes, but his mind has no intention to rest. Too much to think, too much to do… He lays there for a moment, intending to just take a break. Before he can comprehend what's happening, a green glow appears, soft but still bright enough to be visible through his eyelids. He tries to open them, but loses consciousness a mere second later.

He sleeps past noon- he doesn’t even hear his alarm. He can't remember the last time he got eight hours, but he feels refreshed. He also missed Intro to Philosophy. Goddammit.

He’s not as stressed as he thinks he should be. He answers his texts, then showers and disinfects his wounds. At least he doesn’t have anywhere else to be. Maybe he'll have one of those “self care” days the yuppies on the internet are so fond of. He won’t be caught dead with a bathbomb or facemask, and he doesn’t own any fiction books, so he just does his daily fitness routine, then puts on some cheesy Netflix anime as background noise and resumes his essay.

He goes to sleep early for once. Seriously, this isn't like him. He thinks he should be concerned, but he’s not. He’s out cold within minutes, and then he starts… dreaming.

He’s on a tropical island, being assailed by overly-friendly beasts. He’s soon joined by a man who acts like he’s known him all his life, and he doesn't question it. The man initiates a tussle, then leads him through the ruins of an ancient frog temple. They fight off skeletal monsters together, collect shiny gems, and duel with the giant robots they apparently built long ago.

“What shall we do after this?” the man laughs, threading a flower crown. Dirk cautiously pets one of the many creatures he understands to be their charges. He’s named them and given them his spare shades.

      “Can we possibly look more like tools? These aren't even Snapchat-worthy; we're just gluing candy to leaves like dumb preschoolers. What’s the point?”

He pauses.

“Hrm. Does there have to be one?”

      “It’s a waste of perfectly good marshmallows.”

“You chose them as decor, Mr. Strider,” he responds solemnly.

      “It was either that or candy corn, and that shit’s nasty.”

He snorts, setting a bipedal salamander on him.

...

“I suppose the point is to have fun. Are you enjoying yourself?”

      “... Yeah, thanks.”

“Su-plendid! What say we fly around the castle a couple times with capes like REAL tools? Our consorts will love it!”

      “Fuck it. Why not?”

When he wakes exactly eight hours later, everything's a blur of color and sound. Holy shit, he had his first dream. It… wasn't even a bad one. What happened to him?

He watches the sunrise, smiling faintly past his mug of microwaved Fanta.

Every night is the same: tired at a normal time, eager to dream, and then not aware that he’s dreaming. Every morning, he’s well-rested, struggling to recall what happened and jotting down all that he can remember on his notepad. He wants to control or at least understand the dreams and be actively present in them, but he’s wrestling his mind itself to try to make it happen. Part of him thinks he should just enjoy it as it is, but his obsessive side dominates. He reaches out to Roxy’s sister in the hopes that she grasps more than Psych 101 by this point. 

> **So, I started dreaming.**
> 
> Is that so?
> 
> **As in, I’ve never experienced anything close to it before, but now it’s a constant in my life.**
> 
> And that’s an issue for you?
> 
> **No, it just doesn’t make sense. The dreams are all good, but hyperrealistic and with the same person.**
> 
> Who?
> 
> **Some random dude I’ve never seen anywhere else, and when I’m dreaming, I don’t question shit. I go from “Hey, this is my best bro in the whole damn universe,” to “I don’t know who the fuck he is or why he’s always there.” Does that make sense?**
> 
> Have you considered that you might be a host?
> 
> **No, we’re not going down that road. Please stick to the DSM.**
> 
> I’m just saying, it sounds like a paranormal occurrence. Are there any recognizable themes or patterns?
> 
> **Besides him? It all has the same vibes, plus a lot of repeated scenery and activities.**
> 
> What about, say, teeth falling out?
> 
> **I told you, none of them are bad. I already tried Googling everything I could think of, which is why I’m asking you.**
> 
> I’m not sure what you want from me, Dirk.
> 
> **Is there a way to control dreams? I just want to be able to recognize when I’m asleep.**
> 
> To speak with him? I was gifted a Ouija board. It’s still in the shrink wrap.
> 
> **Goddammit, I’m being serious.**
> 
> So am I.
> 
> If it’s any consolation, Roxy has a dream companion.
> 
> **Callie?**
> 
> You’ve heard of her?
> 
> **I mean, I thought she was her imaginary friend from childhood.**
> 
> From what I understand, they’re still in close contact. I’d suggest you talk to Roxy.
> 
> **Do you think she’s... real?**
> 
> That’s not my place to discern. As far as I know, she doesn’t hallucinate, and it doesn’t interfere with her life.
> 
> You, however, have me concerned. Please keep us updated, should things take a turn for the worse.
> 
> **Right, thanks.**
> 
> * * *
> 
> **Hey.**
> 
> **Sorry to bug you, but do you happen to know how to talk to dream people?**
> 
> youre already talkin to one winkwonk
> 
> dw i read rosies log
> 
> she thinks youre possessed or somethin
> 
> **Yeah, not helping.**
> 
> i totes getcha brains are hot messes
> 
> cant say i know what youre goin through but welcome 2 dreamland babey
> 
> **Thanks.**
> 
> im so happy for you but i know theres a 69% chance youre tryin to bang him
> 
> **I just have questions.**
> 
> questions like can we go to SEXYTOWN MMYEAH
> 
> **Callie. What’s the deal with her?**
> 
> damm way to stay on task im v impressed
> 
> shit must be serious
> 
> ok shes like my guardian angel or somethin idk
> 
> she seems as real as i believe her to be but she only visits in dreams
> 
> she has different forms but the one that exists in sleep limbo is twinkly herbert
> 
> **And who is that?**
> 
> that’s what i named it lol she’s a cute lil lightning bug with a glowy swirl on her back
> 
> didja ever see anything right before you fell asleep?
> 
> **Shit, I don’t know.**
> 
> **Wait. I think I did, on the first night that I actually slept.**
> 
> **There was a green glow. I didn’t get to look at it.**
> 
> so that’s where u start methinks
> 
> when you feel really tired remember to look
> 
> **I’m not going to fall into sleep paralysis or some shit like that, right?**
> 
> i mean i never did but be careful ya dingdong
> 
> dont go bonkers over this mkay? and def keep me in the loop!
> 
> **Will do. Thanks again.**

Many failed attempts pass, but his dreaming self is none the wiser and happy for it. By the time he's accepted yet another unsuccessful night, something appears in his peripheral. His eyelids fall heavy, and it takes every ounce of energy to force them back open.

An ethereal, pale green butterfly- no, luna moth- is drifting towards him, flying in the breeze as if it's floating underwater. Its glow is calming, overly so, and Dirk can feel himself going under again. With great effort, he jolts upright. The moth stops, wings moving far too slowly for it to be physically suspended in midair.

      “Who are you?” he slurs, cringing at the sound of his tired voice. There’s no response. Maybe it really is a visual hallucination. He’s not going to just give up after getting this far, though.

      “Can we talk?”

He swings his legs off the side of the bed, standing dizzily. As he adjusts, he approaches, and the moth flies away. Well, it's more like fluttering in slow-motion, haphazard circles. It would probably be screaming in terror if it could. He takes pity on its state as he chases it, but then it makes a beeline for the window and starts to fade through. He reaches out to catch it, and, the instant they touch, he collapses against the foot of his bed, falling asleep.

Dirk has succeeded. The man looks terrified, grabbed by the shoulders in a dark expanse that he assumes is his mindscape. There’s nothing there because he hasn't had a chance to fill it yet.

“Please don’t!”

      “Don’t what?”

“Don’t… do whatever you're planning to do?”

… 

He releases him from his grip, looking aside awkwardly. The man skirts out of reach.

      “... Sorry. Could I ask you some questions?”

“I didn't sign up for this, Dirk. I didn't ask to be made! Oh, Christ on a bike, this is… This is bad; this is very, very bad! Have you any idea what you've caused?”

      “I… No. I just wanted to interact with you consciously.”

“The way I see it, this could go one of four ways: I'm going to be obliviated from existence, we're going to be trapped in a nightmarish hell of your creation for the rest of your life, or you'll never wake or sleep again! We're doomed! Hopeless wretches!”

As he speaks, a storm manifests and swirls around them. He slumps to the “ground,” still floating, and runs his fingers through his hair despondently. The wind picks up, lightning crackling against the sphere they seem to be sheltered by.

      “Are… you doing this?”

“I don’t know! I don't… I was thoroughly and completely unprepared for this situation, and I don’t know how to protect you from yourself!”

      “Myself?" 

“Yes! You threw a rather large monkey wrench into your own brain’s machinations by snatching me up like that.”

      “Shit. I'm sorry, I really am. Can I damage-control?”

He sits next to him, and is given an incredulous look.

“Again, I don't know. Everything’s gone to shit. You couldn't let just one aspect of your life be beyond your domain, could you? Why won't you let yourself experience joy?!”

      “... You know me pretty well, then.”

“Well enough! I'm tethered to you, after all. What Roxy said is a strong indication that she has her own dreamweaver. She didn’t up and tamper with it, now, did she?! No, she accepted it, and… er. She did advise you to confront me. Bugger…”

He sighs, shutting his eyes. Strangely-colored rain pelts against their enclosure, and ominous shadows with no sources dance across the illumination the man seems to radiate.

      “Still... I'm sorry.”

“A lot of good that will do… Apology accept nonetheless. Humans are a troublesome lot, too nosy for their own good. It’s just the nature of your species.

... If it’s worth anything, I'm sorry for attacking your character.”

      "It’s chill; I have a daily regime of self-loathing."

"Which is unwarranted and counterproductive, might I add. You’re imperfect, yes, but everyone is! You deserve to become the best version of yourself. I know all of that depression and junk make enjoying life difficult, but consarn it, you're allowed to be happy!"

...

      “Heh, thanks... So, you’re-”

“Oh, right! Where are my manners? I'm your dreamweaver. You made me on that night, and we're bound together.”

      “Do you have a name?”

“Depends. I am technically a figment of your imagination." 

      “Well, fuck. Didn’t know I had one of those.”

He laughs halfheartedly. The storm seems to calm for a moment.

      “What do you want your name to be?”

“Hrm… I like Jake. That Avatar flick was a cinematic masterpiece, and it would be capital if-”

Just like that, they're sitting on a cliff in Pandora. Dirk scrambles backwards in shock, and Jake cheers, relief washing over him. 

“Thank the stars, you were right! I didn't think I was capable of getting us out of that conundrum.”

Neytiri appears and hoists them onto her giant raptor. Jake transforms into a Na’vi and wraps his arms around her waist blissfully. Dirk clings to him in fear of falling. He wants to make a comment about his taste in blue space furries, but refrains. Wouldn’t want to get warped back to where they came from.

They swoop above the otherworldly scenery and proceed to explore.

      “Gotta admit, this place is beautiful.”

“You’re darn tootin’ it is! I don't give two hoots about your lack of appreciation for the rest, so you can keep that mumbo jumbo to yourself. Avatar was objectively perfect.”

      “Whatever you say.”

Once they’ve seen and done all there is to on the planet, he’s back to default, riding piggyback on his mini-giantess. Dirk trudges after them, thoroughly exhausted and mildly annoyed.

      “Was it really necessary to ditch me for two hours of tail sex?”

 "That was your penance.”

      “Sure... So, we're even?”

“Yes; all is forgiven.”

In a seamless shift, they’re back on the cliff, alone.

      “So, about those questions.”

“You may ask them, but I can’t guarantee answers.”

      “Great, a cryptic Sandman.”

“I might not _know_ the answers, you prick! Now, shoot.”

      “Alright. Why are you a ghost moth?”

“Magic? Your subconscious? I didn’t choose my external form.”

      “Why do you even have one? Aren’t you part of me?”

“As I said, I was created by and from you, but we're separate beings.”

     “And you’re a moth because…”

“I don’t know. It’s _magic_! You can’t expect me to understand everything. All I know is that I have a ritual, an instinct of sorts, where I manifest to send you off to dreamland in the same manner that moths follow moonlight. You know that Lunesta commercial you were so fond of?”

      “Oh, yeah... When I was a lil shit, I thought they were, like, sleep fairies. I considered taking it.”

“Well, there's your answer! You need a healthy sleep cycle, so I'm assisting you.”

      “I appreciate that, honestly.”

He smiles, and they fall into a comfortable silence, looking out over the horizon together.

      “... You’re a cool dude. I'm glad I finally got to make sense of this, even if I ruined everything.”

“What do you mean?”

      “Referring to the list of routes we're apparently doomed to.”

“Oh! Sorry, I was catastrophizing back there… I put on quite an embarrassing spectacle. Afterwards, I guess I sort of forgot you couldn't read my mind. Were... Was that on your noggin for the duration of our adventure? Oh, god-"

      "Kinda? Not really, if we're being honest. Rest assured that I was living in the moment- I had fun."

"You've no idea what a relief that is... Right, so I believe you'll wake up, and things will go back to normal.”

      “What about you?”

“You didn't do anything evil, so I should still be around.”

      “I hope so.”

Darkness is falling upon the land, and he senses the end drawing near.

...

     “Hey.”

“Hm?”

     “... Just in case?”

He offers a fist bump and receives a hug, which he awkwardly reciprocates.

He tries to go back to sleep immediately after, but can't. By nighttime, he still doesn't feel tired, and the knot in his stomach is tightening.

He pulls his knees to his chest, already grieving the poor fairy mothman whose only purpose was to make him happy. Why did he let himself fuck it up?

He doesn't notice the soft glow until it's right in front of him, fluttering in place patiently. Past reservations, he offers a genuine smile and a finger to perch on.

      “Glad you're ok.”

**Author's Note:**

> Will continue this if the people want! 
> 
> Spoilers/funfacts below in case I never get around to it:
> 
> \- Dave has two dreamweavers: John and Karkat. John was around from an early age, but got lost in the trauma. When he began to heal, Karkat manifested and recovered John, and the nightmares stopped. 
> 
> \- It’s discovered that dreamweavers can interact with one another and other dreamers, but not more than one dreamer at a given moment.
> 
> \- Getting a dreamweaver is as much of a lottery as repetitive demonstrations of kindness. People can be goddamn saints and never get one, which is kind of bullshit.
> 
> \- Callie’s forms are: lightning bug, default, trollsona, and winged. 
> 
> \- Reality in dreams is directly tied to the weaver. If they wanted to, say, give you superpowers to save an imaginary world, it would happen. The dreamer is in control of their own speech and actions, albeit often unaware. 
> 
> \- Jake would really appreciate an instruction manual. His lapse was psychological, and, as such, remedied by regaining control of his emotions. The hope and space aspects make for great dreamspirations!


End file.
